


you knew the game and you played it well

by neptuneking



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Island Oliver Queen, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Soulmates, yacht crash still happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-22 10:22:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22081018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neptuneking/pseuds/neptuneking
Summary: Thea was 5 when she first asked Oliver about the timers.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Oliver Queen
Comments: 44
Kudos: 313





	you knew the game and you played it well

**Author's Note:**

> so i was going through fics i never posted and  
> i really wanted to share this one! i haven't watched  
> arrow or flash in years but.. enjoy this au!   
> ty

Thea was 5 when she first asked about the timers.

A movie that her older brother picked out was steadily playing on the TV, and she was close to telling him to change it because it had  _ kissing _ in it.  _ Real  _ kissing. That was for grown-ups. One of her coloring books was open on the coffee table, taking up most of her interest. Their parents weren’t home, on some business trip or another. They don’t tell the little girl much, all she’s aware of is that they go away often. 

She was content to make Ariel the mermaid blue and yellow, until something on the screen caught her focus. A man and woman arguing, both pointing at the female’s wrist. Thea squints at them, wondering exactly why they were so  _ angry _ . She gazes down at her own left wrist, the black numbers sticking out. Honestly, she’d never given a second thought to them. 

But the curiosity is bubbling now, are they a bad thing? They must be, if they weren’t, why is the couple on TV yelling? Her small thumb rubs over the dark lines, lips scrunching together in a childlike matter. She needs more information. 

Thea stands, climbing onto the sofa to face her brother, “Ollie?” He’s  _ fifteen _ , he has to know what they mean. She sits patiently, folding her legs under herself. He doesn’t immediately acknowledge her, so she pushes lightly on his shoulder, nudging him out of his concentration on the movie. 

“What, Thea?” He asks, eyes darting back and forth between her face and the plasma. The girl huffs, wanting his full attention. He finally lands on her, sees the shy inquiring and sighs, grabbing the remote and pressing mute. He scoots sideways on the couch, “Yes?” 

She holds her arm out, countdowns clearly in view. “What are these?” 

The boy blanks, mouth opening then closing once. His expression eventually softens and he reaches to tug his sleeve up. There’s a black bracelet encircling his own wrist and he unties it to reveal what it’s covering. “They’re timers.” 

The child’s eyebrows draw in, confusion evident. “Like kitchen timers? What for?” Seriously? She thought you only needed a timer for baking, or she vaguely remembers her teacher uses one to keep track of recess. 

Oliver chuckles, “Sort of. They’re countdowns to certain events.” He traces his first line of numbers, she can’t quite make them out by the distance, “This one is for when you accomplish your life’s goal.” 

He moves to finger over the second one, “This one is for when you meet your soulmate.” She’s heard stories about those before. Someone you love unconditionally the moment you meet them, who fits into you like a missing puzzle piece. 

He trails down to the last one and pauses briefly. “And this one is when you pass away.” 

‘Passing away’ means dying, she knows. Sometimes people even go to Heaven; at least, that’s what her mom said about great aunt Jasmine. Judging by the way her family weeped when they buried her in the ground, it isn’t a good thing. She didn’t know the woman all that well, so she stood off to the side and studied the flowers people brought. 

Thea looked at her own countdowns, they just seemed like a jumble to her. Her brother must’ve picked up on her apprehension because he gently grabbed her small hand in his and explained what each number meant. 

_ 20:05:15:07:44 _

_ 13:08:07:18:32 _

_ 81:11:09:06:03 _

“See the first numbers? Twenty, thirteen, and eighty-one? Those are years. The next ones are months, then days, hours, and the last ones are minutes.” The boy points to show which he’s talking about and Thea follows along as much as she can. She still hasn’t grasped the entire concept of time yet. 

“So when they run out, that’s when the things happen?” She asks, excitement coursing through her. She’s not exactly sure what she’s excited about, but she learned something new, something that adults talk about. In her mind, it’s a major win. 

“Yeah, that’s when the things happen.” There’s another smile gracing Oliver’s face, like he knows something she doesn’t. Thea dismisses it and yanks his arm as close to her as she can get with her five year old strength. 

_ 16:02:18:06:31 _

_ 16:02:18:06:32 _

_ 16:02:18:06:33 _

“Ollie… “ The girl examines his numbers, a dread she can’t explain creeping into her. “Why are they kinda the same?” She lightly touches them, fingertips clumsily gliding over the timers. 

Oliver shifts, an expression on his face she knows as discomfort. She gets that way when she has to be around a lot of strangers. “I don’t know. We’ll see when the time comes, huh?” 

He turns his frown upside down -something their dad always jokes for them to do when they’re in the dumps- and stands. “Y’know what? Last one to the garden is a rotten egg!” 

Her earlier concern dissolves as she giggles, instantly jumping to her feet and dashing off. She darts around kitchen chairs and expensive art pieces, hearing her sibling’s larger footsteps not far behind her. “You can’t catch me!” 

“Bet you I can, Speedy!” 

***

Thea doesn’t think about the timers a lot after that, just swift glances at her wrist before bedtime, or looking to see if Oliver was wearing his bracelet or not. He always was. 

Her parents share rushed whispers in the kitchen about his countdowns sometimes. She doesn’t mean to sneak in on their conversations, but she goes to get a cup of water and it just happens. They say a bunch of adult stuff about the system being wrong, that they’re worried for him. Thea isn’t sure what to make of it usually, so she tiptoes back up to her room and traces the numbers until her eyes droop. 

Kindergarten passes in a breeze, then first, then second. Third grade is different. Her classmates openly discuss their markers and gossip about who they’re going to fall in love with one day. The girls she claims as friends snatch her wrist to see, ‘oo’ing and ‘ahh’ing. They say she’s gonna live a really long time, but she already knows that. Eighty-six years. 

Oliver’s similar timers are in the back of her mind in those moments. During the summer, she’d caught a glimpse of his wrist while they were swimming. 13 years until his numbers run out. She now understands the frightful feeling she’d experienced the first time she saw. She hasn’t got a clue of what she’d do if she ever lost him.

Regardless of what his skin says, he has girlfriends. He takes some of them on dates -like Laurel Lance- and others he goes out with once and Thea never sees them again. She’s even caught him bring a few boys home, too. She isn’t supposed to mention that to anyone, though, it’s their little secret. Keeping it from their parents is rebellious, it forces her to feel free and guilty all at once. 

But she couldn’t betray her brother, not with how joyous these boys make him. They laugh all the way up the stairs when Moira and Robert are tucked away for the night, stealing sweet pecks and Thea smiles at them. All she wants is for Oliver to be happy. 

So she accepts the goofy winks her sibling sends her, leaning down to kiss her forehead before slipping into his bedroom with whatever pick of the month it is. There’s a few nights where Oliver gestures for her to come in, and she eagerly joins the teenage boys to play monopoly and eat popcorn until she’s falling asleep on his carpeted floor. Every time she ends up in her bed, the game piece she used laying on the pillow beside her.

***

The first time Thea witnesses someone meet their soulmate, she’s eleven. 

Cassidy and her are at the mall, walking around and admiring fall jackets through the store windows. She could easily ask Moira to buy all of them for her, but instead she asks Cass which one she’d want for the upcoming Christmas. When your parents are billionaires, giving makes you feel better than receiving. 

“Hey, Thea, look.” The older of the two motions to the food court, pointing at a man and woman scrambling to pick up a spilled tray, used napkins in a heap on the tile. They look to be in their twenties, vibrant expressions and young laughs floating through the air. 

Thea trails up behind her company, looking questioningly at the pair. What’s the big deal? He just bumped into her, what’s so- Oh. The people around stop and stare as the man takes the woman’s face in his hands, slowly leaning in to kiss her. 

“Are they?” Thea chokes out, some type of glee evading her. She’d only ever seen this happen in the Disney movies. 

“I think so.” Cassidy seemed just as delighted, near clapping out of delectation. The girls turn and grin at each other, unspoken excitement about the soulmates gracing their features. 

The rest of their time there was spent trading theories and daydreams about what it feels like to meet the person you’re destined to be with. Is it shocking? Or is it like coming home? Does the love override any sense of rationality? Ten, fifteen years down the line do you still get the breath knocked out of you when you’re with them? 

Thea doesn’t ask her parents about soulmates, not anymore, because she’s aware they aren’t. Oliver told her not too long ago, blurted it right out in the light of day. 

It was the Fourth of July, and she’d tugged him outside, ignoring his protests because he wasn’t really all that peeved by it. Never could be with her. He was away at college that year, only coming back for holidays or when he’d dropped out of another school. In his absence, she begged Robert to update the old treehouse. 

Oliver saw it and laughed, head thrown back, the sound deep and heartfelt. In all of his twenty-one year old glory, he climbed up the tiny ladder with her and they played checkers, blocking out the distant chatter of their parents guests. Oliver admitted he’d rather listen to her tell stories about her failed science projects than mingle with pretentious businessmen. 

A couple games later and they were leaned back against the wooden structure, alternating between bouncing a ball off the ceiling and floor. Thea made an offhand comment about his hair getting longer and reached over to flick a piece that fell on his forehead. He gave an artificial huff and asked if she wanted to braid what little she could. Of course, she never passed up practice. 

That’s what landed them seated in front of the window, peering out at the barbeque and Thea twisting blond tufts in a knot. The young man was fiddling with his bracelet and the girl thought it as good a time as ever. 

“Seven more years.” She voiced, observing her wrist. 

_ 14:02:16:05:53 _

_ 07:06:02:12:34 _

_ 75:10:30:07:22 _

Oliver gave a soft smile, the one that’s reserved just for her. “Oh yeah? I hope they don’t smell.” Thea giggled, swatting his shoulder without real heat. The short braid fell out of it’s hold and landed in all directions. The pre-teen swiped her fingers through it, fixing the messiness. 

Despite knowing the answer, she asked anyways. “What about you?” 

Ever since she was old enough, she kept track of his countdown. She hadn’t actually seen it recently, but the math was simple. He’s got ten more years. The thought made her stomach curl. 

The tilt of lips dropped as he sighed, “Doesn’t matter. Whatever happens, happens.” She followed his eyes out to the patio, zoning in on Moira and Robert. Their mother was saying something in their father’s ear, hand resting daintily on his shoulder as he flipped a burger. Thea could sense her brother wasn’t finished speaking. 

“Did you know they aren’t actually soulmates?” 

The adolescent girl whipped her head around to stare in jarring. She blinked a few times, mouth agape. The shaking of her head was more of a disagreement than it was a move to clear it. It seemed like everything she’d ever known had been a blatant lie. 

Thea swallowed, trying not to make her next words waver, “What do you mean?” 

Her brother looked careless as he inclined back on his hands. “I mean what I said, Speedy. They aren’t soulmates.” He then realized how bitter that sounded and backtracked. “Mom told me a few years ago. Both of their timers went off after they were already married and invested; so they just left things the way they were.” 

Thea considered this a moment, trailing back to all of the times she truly thought her parents were meant to be. It was all fake, a false front they’d let her believe. Not that she hadn’t heard of the people that never find their soulmates, or are widowed. It’s a real thing, to find another permanent love, but to see the people who raised her that way was difficult. 

Slowly, her eyebrows came out of their tense set. It was hard to process, yet remembering back, it isn’t that absurd. The duo’s wrists were always covered; not a single time had Thea seen them. She’s glad Oliver told her. 

“So what now?” 

Oliver shrugged, then stood and dusted off his khaki shorts. He stretched once, palms laying flat against a plank of wood. Finally, he smiled and said in a teasing tone, “Actually, I think we should ditch these old people and go to the park before fireworks. How’s that sound?”

Thea plastered on a beam, nodded in agreement and raced him down to the grass below. 

***

The Queen’s Gambit got lost at sea. 

She’d told them she had a bad feeling about it, some clutch in the pit of her stomach warning her nothing good would come. Oliver and Robert both insisted everything was fine and kissed her cheek before boarding that damned yacht -she’s twelve and five months, she can curse in her head all she wants. 

Nobody would listen, not even after the boat left and she broke down into her mother’s arms. Moira comforted her with a short, ‘Thea, it’s okay. They’re okay.’ How could she have said that? There wasn’t a single thing alright about this. 

It was all over the local news, almost every channel you flipped to. Thea was in a constant state of grief and panic, mourning a death that never happened. Her brother was alive, no matter what anybody’s input was. 

He still had nine more years. 

Oliver was out there somewhere, breathing. She clung to that in the worst times, hoping,  _ praying _ , he would find his way back home. If he could survive Thea’s insistent begs for piggyback rides growing up, he could survive anything. 

So she waited. 

When Oliver Queen was pronounced dead, she didn’t bat an eye. It wasn’t true. When they buried an empty casket, she cried but not for the reasons everyone else did. His loved ones -Tommy, the Lance sisters, some boy from college- stopped by to pay their respects, she had every knick to tell them off because her brother wasn’t gone. 

They had to know this, how could his best friend forget about his countdown? His former relationships? But seeing the pure anguish on their faces raised a thought. Oliver hadn’t let anyone take a peek but her. 

That truth was left for Thea to ponder, toss over, chew up and spit out. Her sibling’s stubbornness could be the death of him -and quite literally was to many. 

Two people in the world knew about Oliver’s timers then; one of which believed it was corrupt and the other of which grasped so hard onto the universe’s magic trick her knuckles turned white. Thea fought and fought with her mother, screaming matches that ended in tears and slammed doors. Instead of giving her daughter faith, she banished all signs of it. 

Cold shoulders were turned, dinners were spent in silence, and Thea had never felt so empty before. 

***

Thirteen came and went. 

The pitying looks her teachers tossed around like candy in seventh grade seeped into eighth, like there was a huge sign hung over her head that read, ‘ _ My family has fallen apart and I can’t fix it _ ’. Most of her friend group dissolved, dwindling down to few. 

_ 12:04:26:09:05 _

_ 05:10:30:18:12 _

_ 73:11:01:06:21 _

Unlike in the past, she doesn’t give her own numbers much attention. Instead writing on the inside of her palm, ‘ _ 8, 8, 8’.  _ There’s not a thing anyone could say to convince her to let go, to move on. The only person that ever really understood her, ever really cared to the depths of his heart, is out there. 

Life went on. Thea held back as much as she could, stood her ground on not letting Moira clean out Oliver’s room. There was no way in hell. His stuff is staying exactly the way he left it. Their mother would have to pry the books and knick-knacks from Thea’s pale hands. 

Truth be told, she curled up under his sheets on nights when the hole in her chest, typically filled by his presence, burnt to the point of breakdowns. There’s more of her tears on his pillowcase than Armani cologne. 

She leaves sticky notes on his dresser. Nearly everyday, too. She started on the right side, alternating colors after each line was finished. Stupid little things that’d she’d easily tell him over the phone, or in gaps during meals. He was either gonna laugh when he came back, or kill her. 

‘ _I_ _shot a spitball at the back of Mrs. George’s head today. Thought you’d be proud.’_

_ ‘Still don’t know how Mom’s chili is your favorite. It tastes like a dragon’s ass, no offense.’  _

_ ‘Not to be sappy, but I miss you.’  _

And she does, with every fiber in her being. Missing Oliver isn’t foreign, his early college years were to thank for that. But the more time that passed, the more she strayed from the notion of Oliver being missing rather than Oliver being dead. What if his countdown was indeed a fluke? 

Pushing that contemplation away was more difficult than she thought it would be. 

***

Thea isn’t proud of falling into the party scene. She grew up being taught that she’s better than this, but she can’t help it. The thrill of breaking the rules is the only thing she can feel lately. Being handcuffed to a plastic chair at the SCPD was better than sitting numb in a mansion that once held the bright existence of her family. 

Moira was bailing the girl out at least once every two months now, lecturing her about the smell of booze nearly every time. None of her words worked anymore, though, that soft mothering tone fell on deaf ears. If she’d actually paid attention to her daughter through the worst part of her life, listened to her, cherished her, maybe things would be different. But they aren’t and there’s not a thing the two women could do about it. 

She stopped hanging up sticky notes, stopped going in Oliver’s room entirely. In fact, she steadily avoided looking over when walking that hallway now. A living person hasn’t been in that room since ‘07. Thea’s been a walking corpse just as long as Oliver has.

Tommy tried to help, but seeing his face hurt. Genuinely, realistically, it caused her heart to ache in a way she’d been pushing away for years. She never truly dealt with the loss of her father, or the idea of the loss of her brother. A curve of the lips, eyes that used to be such a familiar sight were now unwelcome and painful. But, God, did that man try. 

He’d attempt to talk sense into her until his face went blue, hugged her sobbing body until his collared shirt was wet and snotty. He was good; she knew his pain was similar to her own. Oliver and him grew up together as well, the two brought Tommy in as if he was a brother. 

Thea typically dismissed these discussions and crying sessions the second they were over, opting to go in search of more pills to swallow it down. One day, Tommy had enough. She didn’t blame him, he was doing everything in his power to kickstart her healing process only for her to fall deeper into the void. 

She was on her way out the door, high heels clicking on the marble of the entrance floor when he pulled up. There was no other reason for him to be there than to get her to talk about her feelings, so Thea rolled her eyes and made move to saunter off. 

“Thea, wait.” He called after her, the slam of his car door startling her out of her head. She turned around, arms raised in gesture to get to the point. The club only let in the first twenty kids with noticeably fake ID’s; she had to be there soon or her night was spent at a shitty frat house. Being fifteen sucked.

“I really think we should head back inside.” She heard this and scoffed, shaking her head in annoyance and kept walking to the car waiting further down the driveway. She wasn’t going to ruin her eyeliner for this. 

“Oliver would hate this if he were here.” Her body halted; the air leaving her lungs. 

Slowly walking back towards him, stare cold as ice, she spoke, “Does it look like he’s fucking here?” Rage was bubbling inside her because no one got to talk about him like that. Nobody knows what Oliver would be saying to her if he were here because he wasn’t. And he isn’t coming back.

“No, but.” Tommy swallowed, looking at the fountain to recollect himself. “He didn’t want you to get into this scene, the thought made him scared shitless.” It stung, hearing the thoughts of her deceased sibling. She wished before that more people would’ve told her stories about him, recalled memories they shared. It made her warm inside whenever they did, or when she saw a framed photo of him smiling. Now, it takes everything in her not to cower away when someone mentions his name. 

“You both were in ‘this scene’ so don’t, Tommy. I know what my brother did.” 

The man leaned back against his hood, crossing his ankles and fiddling with his fingers. He peered up at her, a slight water in his tired eyes. “He got around, yeah, I won’t lie about that. But the last thing he’d ever want is for you to follow in his footsteps. Alcohol, drugs, this carelessness. You’re going to be just as bad off as he was if you don’t stop, Thea. He’d want you to make a life for yourself, a good one. Not this empty one you’re living right now.” 

Her vision became blurry, and not because of amphetamines; she quickly swiped the stray tear away before it could fall. Her voice sounded broken, bent out of shape, hopeless. “But what’s the point if he’s never going to see-, I don’t know what to do, Tommy. I don’t know how to handle this.” A sob jerked through her form now, causing her knees to weaken. Lack of food, sleep, or the emotion, neither of them know. Tommy catches her before she’s able to hit the concrete. 

“I know, I know.” He soothes into her brunette hair, clinging to her just as much as she’s clinging to him. Mutual support is something neither of them were gifted with since this spiral happened. They should’ve been there for each other since the beginning, picking the other up before it lead to such destruction. 

They sit on the ground like that, absorbed in this net they’d never let themselves fall into. Their sniffles lighten up, croaked voices left in their wake. 

Thea sounds so small, vulnerable as the day she was born as she cranes her neck up, “What if he’s actually gone? What if Ollie is really dead?” 

Tommy gets this far-off expression, the questions sinking into his skin. He’d been searching mighty hard for the answers lately. “I don’t think so.” 

“What? But you- You didn’t believe me.” The girl pulled away, crossing her legs in front of him with an expectant face. He had accepted Oliver’s death, mourned at his funeral; he didn’t know any better. He didn’t see his timers, and when newly trauma-filled Thea Queen confessed he had more years, who was to believe her? A twelve year old struck with one of the worst fates wasn’t exactly reliable at that moment. 

“I don’t know what I believe, Thea. I just have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that won’t go away, no matter how hard I try to push it down. Like he’s out there.” He let out a breathy laugh, lightly shaking his head. “Almost five years. I went five years not even considering the possibility of my best friend being alive, and now it won’t leave my mind.” 

Thea’s gaze softened, understanding. She was so close to the brink of coming to grips with Oliver passing away; forgetting the notion of his timers. A wave of clear washed over her. “He should still have a few years.” 

Tommy’s face scrunched up, as if debating something. “Why didn’t he ever show me his countdowns? I mean, it wasn’t really a big deal back then, he kept it covered. But he showed you, why not me?” 

Thea knew the reason, easily. “He didn’t want to worry you.” It was the cause of him not letting anyone else see. The girl was so young when she’d first been shown, only because of childlike curiosity had he untied his bracelet. “His timers weren’t like ours.” 

“What do you mean?” Tommy piped, tossing a small rock aside. 

The Queen sister stood, gesturing for him to follow her inside. They made it to her bedroom, taking root on the floor with a notebook open. Different numbers and Oliver’s name littered the pages; some indicating what his timer would have said when he was young, going up to a year ago. Thea stopped trying to figure out his marks when it seemed pointless. 

She started writing, doing the math in her head and filling in random numbers for the months, days and hours. 

_ 5:09:29:12:05 _

_ 5:09:29:12:06 _

_ 5:09:29:12:07 _

“They would look like this. Obviously I only know his real year, I just made up the rest to get an idea.” She moved back to slide the journal to the older, hands shaking slightly. The jitters were getting to her. 

Tommy examined the writing, brows furrowing. “They’re only a minute apart.” 

Thea quickly nodded, “Exactly. I remember asking him why when we were young, but he never told me. Always said something like ‘We’ll see when the time comes’ or ‘Whatever happens, happens’. He’s gonna complete his life goal, meet his soulmate, and then die. The only people on the yacht was our father and a few crew men that he’s met before.” The man took in this information, gnawing on his lip. 

“So what do we do? He’s out there somewhere, alive.” He riffled through the other sheets, reading what was jotted down. “What about your mom? Moira’s had to have seen it before, and she’s done nothing to find him?” 

It makes the girl wince, memories of fights with her mother flooding back. Moira shutting down all talk about Oliver’s timers didn’t help her mental health. “She thinks the system’s corrupt; she said she didn’t believe in the numbers. I think it had something to do with her and dad not actually being soulmates.” 

“That’s bullshit, only in super rare cases do people’s countdowns get messed up. Like, one in a few billion, and it hasn’t happened in centuries. His timer was right.” Tommy defended, relieving all of Thea’s doubts that maybe he’d think the same of the system. 

“I think the only thing we can do is wait for him to come back, I mean, where would we even look? He could be in Australia for all we know.” She envisions her brother surfing, going to petting zoos, eating that god awful vegemite. “What if he doesn’t even want to come back?” 

“He does. I know Oliver and he wouldn’t leave us like this without a reason.” 

The two spent the next months in secret, searching the web for any reports of a man in his twenties spotted in usual places. They reached out to fisherboat companies, handing them over Oliver’s outdated picture to tell their men to keep an eye out. Endless phone calls to foreign countries, they’d be broke by the bill if not for their rich status. They were going to find him. 

Thea cut back on the partying, eased herself off of the alcohol and drugs, to the relief of her mother and Tommy. She had a purpose again, one that she’d lost hope of along the way but has gained back. Her grades went up, the light in her eyes slowly started to brighten, the apple of her cheeks were seeing a lot more action lately. 

She started hanging up sticky notes again. 

***

Thea was almost seventeen when Oliver Queen was rescued.    
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> lemme know if u want me to...  
> possibly continue this ?? idk if  
> anyone even reads this pairing anymore  
> but ... LEMME KNOW


End file.
